Succubi: History of the Denali Sisters
by Damsell
Summary: This is the story of the three Denali Sisters: Tanya, Irina, and Kate. This tells about their human lives, their conversions, and their lives as vampires.
1. Chapter 1

**Tanya**

_**Russia, Late 18**__**th**__** Century**_

She stirred in her bed and snuggled closer to the warmth she felt at her side.

It was always so much nicer to wake up with warm flesh pressed against hers. Raising one knee up so she could further curl it around the body by her side and press herself against her bedmate she practically purred as her hands began to wander.

She never understood why artists said they found the female form so much more interesting than the male form. It wasn't that she didn't understand and know her own body; it was that the male body was so _different_ and it was also so _pleasurable_.

As her hand wandered against the nicely formed chest at her side feeling the muscles, the light spattering of hair, she marveled at the difference from her own. She also let her mind wander to how that chest had felt pressed against her own the previous evening.

Lifting her head from the pillow, she slowly opened her pale green eyes and let her eyes rest on the face of her companion. He was handsome with his dirty blond hair, chiseled features, and slightly full lips.

What was his name?

As she felt his body start to respond to her touch and, well, rise to the occasion, she realized that his name didn't matter. It wasn't like _any_ of their names really mattered. It was only what they did between the sheets, or out of them, depending on what mood struck them that mattered.

And, whoever this fellow was laying beside her, duke or farmhand, he was quite good at giving and taking pleasure. As he began to slowly wake, more than just his body stirring to her touch, she let a soft grin slowly curl up the corners of her own full lips.

Yes, she definitely wanted a taste of him again.

Nuzzling his neck she felt his own hands start to wander, her flesh becoming more heated with his touch, and she had already been aroused enough before he'd woken.

When he was fully awake and his lips found hers, he displayed that control and possessiveness that she'd always found so appealing. As he pulled her roughly under him she couldn't help the giggle that escaped from between her lips, but as he worked his tongue, lips and hands against her flesh that sound quickly turned into a moan.

This is what she liked. There was no gentleness here, only lust and passion.

It wasn't long before their cries, moans, and gasps of pure, unadulterated pleasure filled the small room around them, echoing off the walls. With the forcefulness with which they took each other she was more than certain she would have bruises on top of the ones that she'd gained the previous evening, but she didn't care. No, she rather enjoyed his roughness.

And when the sound of his flesh moving against hers was punctuated with his hoarse, deep voice calling, "Tanya!" she could only smile and moan in return.

By the time they had both been sated enough to even consider leaving the bed, the sheets were tangled, wrinkled, and soiled from their escapades. The light was entering the small room in such a way that suggested that most of the morning had come and gone without much thought.

Leaving her companion on the bed she stood up and went to stand in front of the window, unabashed by her nudity. As she moved the curtains aside and the light caressed her pale flesh she raised her hands above her head and arched her back, stretching her long limbs, working out the kinks that had developed from her early morning romp.

She also felt the eyes of her companion boring into her back and she turned her head, looking at him as he sat, leaning against the headboard, his hair standing out in tangled tufts around his head.

Seeing the admiring look in his eyes she couldn't help her smile. She knew that most women relied on corsets and wired undergarments to create the perfect shape and although she conformed to the fashion of the times she didn't need the various undergarments to enhance her already full breasts that tapered down to a small waist that flared out once again into her rounded hips and rear. She had a body women coveted and envied and men desired.

Studying her companion she could not fully return the admiration.

He had a perfect body, but, hmm, perhaps he wasn't as handsome as she'd thought, though there was no doubt that she'd enjoyed their time together.

Unfortunately she recognized the look in his eyes. He wanted more than just a night and a morning.

It was so unfortunate when they got attached.

Moving towards her dresser she poured a bit of water from a pitcher there into a nearby wash basin even as she watched his reflection via the small mirror hanging nearby. He had moved to the edge of the bed and was relieving himself into the chamber pot he'd apparently found under the bed.

The sound of his stream of urine hitting the porcelain of the chamber pot was finally drowned out by his voice. "So what shall we do for the rest of the day, my lady?'

My lady, it was apparent that the man was an aristocrat. It figured.

She had always been amused by the fact that every man that she'd been with, whether of the noble or peasant class, acted pretty much the same when it came to a good fuck.

Strangely enough though, it was always the rich ones that got attached. She really wished they wouldn't. It made it all rather messy when they realized that she wasn't interested in anything long term.

As she splashed water on her face and then retrieved a clean washcloth so she could clean off a bit she shrugged her shoulders.

"I have appointments." She turned to give him a pouty look over her shoulder. "I'm sorry, _dorogoi_."

Of course it was all an act. It was easier if they believed she was busy than trying to convince them she didn't want anything more to do with them.

Most of them got the hint and when they met at various soirees and gatherings her rejection was enough to make them pretend they didn't know her, thus keeping her reputation in tact.


	2. Chapter 2

After Tanya had managed to get Baron Whatever-his-name-was out of the small room she kept for trysts such as the one that had occurred she had slipped on her shift and made her way through the corridors that only a few servants knew about and made her way back to her real chambers.

The maids were already waiting, her bath was drawn, there was a fire in the hearth to keep her warm, and a meal already set out. She gave the young girls a pleasant smile before she sat in the tub, shift and all and slouched down so that the surface of the water reached just below her nostrils.

The girls left after curtsying and she just let the warm waters soothe her limbs. She always loved that delicious soreness that settled into her muscles after the type of night and morning she'd just experienced. Flexing her muscles under the water's surface she began to run her hand over her body.

Apparently the Baron had not helped to satisfy all her needs after all. Perhaps she had been rather hasty in making him go. As she straightened up, her lips resurfacing from the water, they were formed into a pout that most men would die to kiss.

At that moment she realized that it would be some time before she dared let a man into her bed again. What a pity.

Her hands slowly started to wander over her own body, but she had much more than bathing in mind. Unfortunately, right now, self gratification would have to do.

By the time she was done, her sounds of pleasure having been stifled as much as she was capable, the water was growing cold despite the nearby fire. With a sigh she lifted her dripping hand out of the tub and rang a bell that was sitting on the small table nearby.

It didn't take more than a moment before the maids came into the room. Helping her from the tub she let them change her shift and dry her off even as she made small talk with them, asking after their families.

She knew that it wasn't the norm to fraternize with servants, but then she didn't exactly have the most normal of backgrounds. Only she and her papa knew the truth about her mother's background. Most individuals accepted that the late Countess Donnikova had been descended from one of the _knyazes_.

Only she and her father knew the truth. Her mother had been a servant once, but it had been easy enough for her father to invent a background for her when he decided he couldn't live without her.

There'd never been a chance for the truth to come out since she'd died shortly after Tanya's death, but her father had never hidden the truth from her and she'd lived her whole life with high regard for people of all classes, peasant or noble.

Of course there was no reason for her papa to know that she'd taken men of all classes into her bed. He hadn't brought her up to be _that_ accepting. She was still expected to be a lady and marry as well as she was able.

He was fond of saying that that was the burden of money and class. She never pointed out that he had not taken on that particular burden himself. Not that she was interested in marriage, far from it. She was enjoying life without a husband far too much.

As the maids helped her to put her hair up in the latest fashion and helped her to dress she nibbled on a piece of toast.

She had to stop by the dressmaker and cobbler, then it wouldn't hurt to go to the glove maker and she really should buy some new garters and stockings. Shopping was so tedious, perhaps she would just leave it for another day and rest before the ball she was supposed to attend this evening.

Looking out the window as her body was jerked about while being corseted, she noticed clouds rolling in. Winter was almost upon them which meant that the days would grow shorter and colder, while the evenings grew longer. It would be nice if she could have a nice hard body in bed with her every night to keep her warm. She was sure that last evening's Baron or any other number of men of her acquaintance would be happy to fulfill that request, but that meant marriage and at eighteen she was far from ready to submit to a husband and play the role of the dutiful wife.

Even if eighteen was the appropriate age for a woman of her station to be married off she still felt that she wanted to be free of those particular constraints, she was just enjoying herself way too much, flitting from man to man. It was also true that she hadn't found any single man worthy of dedicating her life to.

Perhaps some day, one never knew. As of yet no one really seemed worthy.

Dressed and coifed she stood in front of her mirror and turned her head this way and that, taking in her appearance. She'd grown sick of this dress, having already worn it twice.

Turning to her maids she smiled. "Which dress did we decide on for the ball?"

We, as if the poor girls had any real say in the matter. Truth was the girls would settle for a scrap of lace half the price of that that covered her costly gowns. Every piece of her wardrobe was perfect to them so they could not understand how she chose one gown over another.

A soft, shy voice finally answered her, "I believe it was the red with the black detailing, mistress."

She nodded and pouted. Perhaps she should go to the dress maker after all. The green dress with the black embroidery she'd ordered should be ready. Of course that would mean a visit to the furriers and the other shops.

With a resigned sigh she looked away. "Send for the carriage."


	3. Chapter 3

Making her way downstairs, Tanya looked around quietly before she made her way to her papa's study. He'd fallen asleep in front of the hearth again. Making her way towards him she took a lap blanket from where it was slung across a nearby chair and resting it on his lap before she placed a kiss on his forehead.

He stirred a bit, shifting in his seat, then let out a snore, which only made her smile. When had her papa grown so old? She still remembered when his beard had been only peppered with grey, now it was completely white, as was his hair.

She smiled at his sleeping figure again and whispered, "Love you, papa," and with that she left the room, closing the door softly behind her.

Making her way to the front door one of her maids was already waiting with her fur lined cape and she frowned. "Do I need it? Can't I just use my wool cape?"

The maid flushed a bit and stammered out, "It's…it's snowing, mistress."

She looked out the window and sighed. "So it is." With a kind smile she added, "Thank you for being so thoughtful."

The maid smiled at her, apparently pleased that she'd done something right.

As the cape was slipped on her shoulders and she was handed her matching fur muff the butler moved to open the front door, revealing that the carriage was already waiting.

As the footman helped her up the step to the carriage she called up to the driver, "To the seamstress' shop."

Once she was settled in her seat, she snuggled back against the plush leather seats. "Ugh, shopping."

Later that evening as she arrived at the ball she caught a glimpse of herself in a mirror near the entrance just before someone moved to take her coat and gloves.

The shopping had definitely been worth it. The black fur cape and black leather gloves went well with the emerald gown embroidered with black. The colors went well with her pale skin, strawberry blond hair, and green eyes. She'd even pulled out her mama's emerald choker and earbobs to finish off he look.

She would be the bell of the ball. She had no doubt about that. Glancing at her father as her cape was taken she saw that he was pleased with how beautiful she looked. As she rested her hand lightly on his arm and he led her to the receiving line he patted her hand lightly as he leaned in to whisper to her, "You'll have all the men chasing after you, my dear. I'm afraid I'll be losing you in no time."

She had only laughed softly. "Oh, papa!"

But, he had actually been right.

After going through the receiving line she soon found herself the center of attention. Her father had left her to be with her friend, trusting his good friend, an old widow that lived not far off from them, to keep an eye on her and play her chaperon as he went off to play cards.

Of course he never knew that this old widow was asleep more often then not and Tanya was left to her own devices. She preferred it this way. It wasn't that she ever misbehaved in _public_, but when her chaperon didn't keep such a close eye she could talk with more people…and put the wheels in motion for her trysts.

But, tonight, there was no one to catch her attention. Pity. She'd had a feeling when she'd left the baron in her little meeting room this morning it would be some time before she had another interlude.

She almost pouted as she imagined just how cold, lonely, and _boring_ her nights would be for some time.

That was when she saw _him_. He was watching her from across the room. Could a man be so perfect?

His chiseled features were masculine, but somehow still beautiful. She could swear that his skin was almost glimmering with the candle light. His clothes and hair might not have been in the latest style, but the slightly out of date clothes and the unpowdered way he kept his hair suited him…

…and made her want him even more.

Leaving a few scowling men in her wake she made her way across the room. She was going to him! She'd never done _that_ before, but it seemed like the most natural thing in the world.

But, before she could get to him someone was pulling her gently aside. The woman who was drawing her in the opposite direction through the crowd was almost as beautiful as the man she'd been looking at. She also had delicate, beautiful features set in perfect ivory skin.

If she hadn't been so confused, she might have been jealous. Both these strangers, even the man, were more beautiful than she was.

The woman's gloved hand let go of her own and she turned to her and simply whispered. "He is not for you, little one. Stay away. He is dangerous. I will watch out for you if I can."

Before she could ask what the beautiful woman with the strange dark eyes, tinted with crimson meant, she was gone. It was as if she'd disappeared. The man she had been watching was gone, too.

For the first time since she was a child she felt frightened…truly scared. Luckily for her a young man who just happened to be one of her former conquests was standing nearby and before her legs buckled completely under her he helped to study her, his voice filled with concern, "Lady Donnikova?! Tanya? Are you all right?"

As she steadied herself her eyes continued to look wildly around. "D…did you see…see them?"

The young man looked confused and when he asked who she just shook her head, not able to say anything more. He helped her to a nearby settee and whispered, "I'll find your father."

She had only nodded in response and looked around as her heart continued to pound in her chest. Since she was a child she had heard stories of death stalking people right out in the open and somehow she felt as if that had just happened to her.

The question was—had she escaped death's clutches?


	4. Chapter 4

Her papa had come straight away, and though he had tried to insist that he should take her home, she had told him that he should stay. She knew he enjoyed his time in the backroom, playing cards while smoking and drinking with his friends.

He did escort her to the carriage though and kissed her forehead before he helped her up into the carriage. "Go home and go straight to bed, young lady. No over exerting yourself."

She had blushed at his words, thinking about how she had exerted herself the previous evening. Sometimes she _almost_ felt guilty about her escapades, but not enough to actually stop her from continuing her trysts.

As she settled in the carriage, snuggling into her new black fur cape she let her mind wander back to the man across the room and the woman that had dragged her away from his gaze. Who were they and why did she feel as if those brief moments had changed her life forever?

She had never seen either of them before. She was certain of that. No, she would have remembered the perfect faces and flawless, pale skin. She'd especially have remembered those eyes. Remembering the crimson tint to the woman's eyes she shivered a bit despite the warmth provided by her coat.

She just wanted to get home and slip under the warmed covers of her bed. Perhaps she'd even forget about this evening's events. Yes, she'd concentrate on the Baron, or perhaps one of the other countless men who had come and gone over the last three years.

But, thinking of those men only led her thoughts back to the handsome gentleman across the ballroom. What would it feel to have him hold her in his arms, kiss her, take her? For some reason she shuddered at the thought. No, taking her thoughts in that direction was far from safe.

She tried to distract herself by thinking of the things she would have to do on the morrow. There were the usual things that happened after the early afternoon mass. She would have to set the menu for the week and go over things with the staff. She'd played the lady of the house from such a young age these things were like second nature to her. And, they were boring.

Just when the thoughts of household duties along with the rocking of the carriage were beginning to lull her to sleep the carriage lurched to a sudden stop, sending her sprawling across the empty seat in front of her. As she tried to untangle herself from the fur cape and layers upon layers of fabric that made up her gown and petticoat she felt her heart begin to pound in her chest.

Had they been set upon by robbers? That could be the only explanation for coming to a sudden stop like they had. She hadn't heard any break in the axel or the wheels.

The sound of her heart thumping in her chest was suddenly drown out by the horses making sounds so horrible that she tried covering her ears as she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block it out. She didn't know that animals could make sounds of sheer terror.

What had happened to the footman? The coachman? She knew that the latter carried weapons incase they were ever set upon by highway men. Why weren't they doing something!?

The shrieking cries of horror from the animals had finally stopped and things had grown eerily silent. The lantern inside the coach had gone out when the coach had come to a sudden stop. Crawling around in the pitch black interior, the curtains over the windows blocking out whatever little light might have come in front outside she could only hear her own terrified panting breaths and the pounding of her blood in her ears.

What was she to do? Should she stay here or try to make a run for it? It didn't take her long to reject the idea of trying to escape, her skirts and shoes would only be a hindrance in the snow and she wouldn't make it far.

Before she could decide on another course of action the door to the carriage was pulled clear off its hinges and a cry of panic was cut off as she was yanked from the shadowed darkness into the pale moonlight. It took a moment for her green eyes to adjust to the glow of the moon reflecting off the snow that covered the ground, but even then she could not see who her attackers were.

The elaborate powdered hairdo had come apart and tangled pieces of teased hair were falling across her eyes even as she struggled against the iron grip around her waist. She couldn't find the air to scream, the fright having stolen the breath from her lungs and the constricting corset didn't allow her room to fill them with enough oxygen to do more than shriek breathlessly and whimper.

What was happening? WHY was it happening?

Those were the only coherent thoughts in her head as she continued to struggle against the impossibly strong grip of the monster that held her from behind. The sounds she made were almost as horrible as those of the horses that she could see lying in dark heaps on the snow covered road, their limbs lying in unnatural positions around the massive bodies that were slowly being powdered by the snowflakes that had begun to fall.

When she finally managed to get enough air in her lungs to let out a scream, it was a mixture of outrage and horror: outrage because of the impossibly cold, hard hand that had wormed its way down the front of her gown, fingers roughly squeezing at her breast; fear because of the body of the coachman lying not far off, his once kind eyes now staring blankly up at the night sky, unblinking in death. But, her cry was futile…there was no one around for miles and she knew it.

_No_, she thought, _this cannot be happening! _She was the daughter of a baron, a strong woman in control of her own fate!

Though there was no point in struggling, her attacker being impossibly strong, she continued to do so, ignoring the pain as the effort bruised her delicate flesh. Her legs were tangled in the fabric of her skirts and petticoats so she could not kick and as she tried to dig her nails into the arms that held her prisoner she only felt her nails snap and break as she clawed at what seemed to be granite covered in fabric.

When she finally managed to do more than scream her words were those of a woman filled with a fear of death, "GOD HELP ME!"


	5. Chapter 5

The fear was there, fear that she would be violated and murdered, but she was also _angry_. She may not be able to stop it from happening, but she wasn't going to make it easy on the fiend that was dragging her through the cold snow.

She barely registered that the fingers that were tugging at her breast were colder than ice or that the grip on her was stronger than that of a statue. Instead, her mind was racing, trying to think of a means of escape even as the hand finally left her breast and she was thrown to the cold ground.

Figuring this was her one chance she tried to scamper away, crawling, but her efforts to escape were hindered by the deep layer of snow and the layers of fabric that made up her gown, which was already in tatters.

She didn't not get far before she felt her attacker on top of her. As his weight settled on her and pressed her into the snow, she could barely let out a cry of fear and frustration. She felt one of her attacker's arms wrap around her, pinning her arms to her sides, and felt the other fumbling under her petticoats, the coldness of his flesh penetrating through the thin silk fabric of her stockings.

She tried to struggle, but there was no point with the way he lay on her, pinning her to the ground. Bile rose up in her throat as she felt cold breath on the nape of her neck, finding it strange how the scent of it was sweet, almost sickeningly so.

Her mind finally managed to put some coherent thoughts together and she was no longer wondering _who_ this was, but _what_ this was. Something just wasn't right.

The scent of the creature on her was almost intoxicating and as he began to nuzzle her neck and his breath tickled her skin, her struggles slowly stopped. Her breathing was still coming out in soft pants, but they were no longer caused by her struggling, instead they came about as a result of the hand that was now expertly caressing the bare skin of her thigh.

Her body and her appetites were betraying her, and it was apparent that the man on her, whoever he was, was an expert when it came to seducing women because his fingers under her skirts was drawing the kind of response that most men could only get out of her with some time and practice.

How could she be responding to his touch? How could she _want_ him when he was responsible for the murdered men lying not far from where they were now?

She didn't know he answers to these questions, but she did notice that her moans and cries were no longer those of fear, they were of passion filled with frustration that stemmed from the fact that she _needed_ him.

As if he could sense the change, her tormentor chuckled huskily in her ear and lifted himself off of her enough to flip her over. Suddenly she was looking up into that perfect face that had been standing across the ballroom from her not too long ago. She took in the too perfect smile over the gleaming white teeth, the aristocratic features, and last but not least, the crimson eyes that were boring into her green ones.

She let out a half gasp, half moan as she felt his fingers work their way up the inside of her thighs again. His free hand was near her face and his frozen fingers slowly stroked her cheek. When he spoke his voice was almost hypnotic. "So beautiful." He leaned down and brushed his lips against her chin and continued, "Did you think that you could escape me that easily." Just then his fingers did something absolutely wicked and she shivered and cried out a bit under him as he whispered in her ear, "I always get what I want."

She was no longer thinking straight as he continued his seduction there in the cold snow. Before long his growls and her cries of pleasure were echoing through the forest surrounding them.

Being with him was so _different_; his body was hard beneath his clothes, and cold rather than hot. Even as her body moved in rhythm with his and his hands tore at her clothes, moving along the bare skin that he exposed she wondered how this could be happening. She had been frightened of this just moments before and now it was as if she couldn't help herself.

She was lost in the feel of his body and mouth and just when she was close to a climax the cry she was about to let out suddenly turned to one of pain as she felt his teeth sink into her neck.

This was no love bite. The burning that spread through her from where his teeth latched onto her flesh was like the fires of hell itself. She tried to push him off her, her body bucking and writhing under his, but it was like pushing at a brick wall.

Just when she started to feel weak and her struggles began to subside, she felt his weight suddenly pulled from her. She didn't wonder where this piece of good fortune had come from and using the last bit of her strength she turned around and tried crawling away.

The pain overwhelmed her though as the burning sensation started to spread through her and she collapsed on the ground but, not even her whimpers of pain were enough to drown out the strange tearing sound that was suddenly filling the air around her.

Her curiosity might have been piqued, but right now she was sure that God was punishing her for all her misdeeds.

As she lay there, staring up at the night sky, a beautiful face suddenly came into focus above her. It was the woman from the ballroom, her beautiful face filled with kindness and compassion.

Tanya looked at her and whispered, "Kill me….please…"


	6. Chapter 6

The beautiful woman with the kind expression sighed at Tanya's words and ignoring the fact that she was wearing a gorgeous, expensive gown, she sat down on the cold snow next to Tanya and gently brushed tangled, powdered locks away from her face.

"I cannot do that, child."

As the fire continued to spread Tanya whimpered in pain and raised her hand to clutch at the burning in her throat, as if her broken nails could claw out the pain from her flesh. She groaned as her jagged nails tore at the flesh already broken open by her attacker's teeth, but the pain of that action was nothing compared to the fires of hell that were coursing through her veins.

The beautiful woman gently moved her hand away. "Shh, little one, there is no point." She let out a heartfelt sigh and looked at something in the snow not too far off from them. Tanya was in too much pain to notice or care about what she was looking at.

The woman sighed a deep, heartfelt sigh. "I will be right back, dearest." But, then again, it wasn't like Tanya was going anywhere. She lay there, writhing in pain, her limbs twisting and curling in on themselves then growing taunt as her body tried to fight off the venom coursing through her veins.

She was too lost in the pain to even notice the crackling of a fire and the strong smell of incense that began to fill the air. Right now, the only thing that was on her mind were her sins.

She was certain that God was punishing her.

It seemed like forever before she felt cold arms around her and the beautiful woman, despite her delicate, petite frame, was lifting her up as easily and gently as if she were a child. As Tanya convulsed in her arms she held her close, her embrace protective. "Shhh, child. I wish I could say that I can make it better, but I can't."

This was what Tanya had imagined her mother's embrace would be like when she was sick as a little girl, but in those unfulfilled fantasies her mother had made everything better. That was not the case now.

The pain was getting worse rather than better and she whimpered as she clung to the woman who was now racing through the snow filled night so quickly that everything around them was a blur. She did find a slight bit of comfort in the woman's motherly embrace and the words that she whispered to her.

"Do not worry, my child, the pain will not last forever and I will do what I can to speed along the process."

Tanya took some comfort in these words, but she had no idea what the 'process' that the woman was speaking of was. Somehow she felt that the woman wanted to take care of her, that she wanted to make it all better.

Before long they were in luxurious surroundings, surroundings even more lavish than those than Tanya was used to, but again, she paid no mind to this, not even as she was careful laid out on a large bed.

The woman sat on the bed next to her, smoothing back Tanya's hair. "I'm sorry, child, but there is something I have to do. It will cause you more pain, but in the end it will make the amount of time you are in pain shorter."

Tanya was in too much pain to ask her what she meant, but then she was screaming like she'd never screamed in her life as the woman's teeth sank into one wrist, then the other, then the woman's teeth were tearing a new wound into the other side of her neck from where her male attacker had placed the first wound.

Now the burning was _everywhere_!

Why had the woman done this? She had made things worse rather than better!

Screaming and sobbing, she begged to be killed. She wanted to be put out of her misery like the horse her father had once had to kill because it had broken a leg. Even that animal had been shown more mercy than she was being shown now.

One thing was unexpected. Instead of leaving her to her wallow alone in her wretchedness, the woman lay down with her and held her gently, trying to provide some sort of comfort amid the hellish pain.

She had no idea how long the pain lasted, it seemed to have just started and at the same time it seemed to have started an eternity ago. There was no beginning and no end, but through it all, the woman was there, holding her, rocking her, whispering soothing things in various languages in her ear. The woman even san lullabies and ran cool damp cloths over her skin that surely had to look as if it were charred bits of flesh.

None of this took away the pain, but it _was_ soothing.

At one point she managed to ask while whimpering why God had chosen to punish her in this way. Had she truly been that bad?

The woman had sighed and holding her she whispered, "God has nothing to do with this child. Never forget that. We are all creatures of God, but even God has his fallen angels."

Tanya did not understand the cryptic words and had just continued to moan, scream, and cry and through the whole trip through hell, the kind, beautiful woman had only left her side for short moments and she had always returned with things to make Tanya more comfortable, whether that be a wash basin to wash the grime and muck from her skin and hair, or a night gown to replace the tattered gown that she had been proud to dress in not so long ago.

Tanya was grateful for these little things, but none of it really made her comfortable. She was beginning to doubt that this would ever end or that she would ever feel comfortable again.

And, through it all, the woman continued to stay by her side, telling tales, singing songs, and holding Tanya. At one point the woman had whispered, "What a bad mama I've been. I have not even told you my name. I am Sasha."

Tanya had not had the presence of mind to think about the fact that this woman had referred to herself as her 'mama,' but she was glad she could finally put a name to the beautiful face.


	7. Chapter 7

Sasha had been there for the worst part of it, when her heart had begun to flutter faster than the wings of the hummingbirds that flew around her father's garden and the fires were centered there in her chest. Was this it? Would God take her now?

She was so lost in pain she couldn't ask these questions out loud and she barely noticed as Sasha's arms tightened around her.

Then, just like that, the pain was gone.

Once she understood that there was no pain and that it wouldn't be coming back she opened her eyes to a completely different world.

She didn't understand the changes. Everything was so clear, _too_ clear. She felt her breath grow rapid with fright as she heard a sound that was as loud and clear to her as elephant hooves pounding on the ground. _What was that?!_ It was coming from the _walls_ of all places.

Shifting a bit in Sasha's arms she gasped at the sound of the fabric rustling. It was a sound she might not have noticed before, but now it was as impossible to ignore as the roar of the ocean.

And the smells! She could smell the cotton of the sheets so clearly that it was almost a tangible taste on her tongue. It was mixed with the smell of dust, the rose water sprinkled on her gown, and the beautiful, rose like scent emanating from the woman laying near her.

She was quickly distracted from the smell by the way things _looked_. The light filtering through the edges of the curtain fell on the specks of dust on the air setting them off like tiny diamonds floating through space.

It was beautiful, but frightening.

When she got frightened she could fell the pounding of her heart against her chest and the rush of blood through her ears, but there was nothing like that now. Where was her heart?!?

What was happening?

_What was happening?_

She barely thought about moving from the bed when she suddenly found herself across the room. How had she gotten there so fast? She was distracted from this thought by the scurrying sound from within the walls that sounded like a heard of elephants and she jumped away from the wall with a hiss of fear, but not realizing her own strength, she had jumped and broken a rather pretty table on one side of the room. She dashed away from the splintered wood and marble with another cry.

"WHAT IS HAPPENING!?"

The panic and fear was obvious in her voice and gaze as her eyes as she huddled in the corner, her arms wrapped over the back of her head as she tried to drown out the sounds and sights that were confusing her. Everything was as it should be, but nothing was the same!

She heard the sound of the ocean again and peeking from behind her arms she saw the beautiful woman approaching, the sound being that of her clothes as she moved, but beautiful was no longer an adequate description for the woman. She was perfection!

Looking at Sasha in awe Tanya slowly lowered her arms. She was positive that she had never seen anyone so beautiful in her entire life. She was speechless.

When the woman spoke her voice was soft, gentle, kind, but above that all, it was perfect. It was a voice that made the best opera singers sound like howling dogs.

Stopping not too far from her Sash squatted down so they were at eye level and she whispered, "Shhh, it's all right, my child. I know, I know that it is all very new and confusing."

Unconsciously Tanya reached up and scratched at her throat. The burning had not gone away completely and she felt parched.

Noticing the movement Sasha smiled kindly. "You are thirsty, yes?"

Licking her lips and swallowing, hoping to eliminate some of the discomfort and pain, but no succeeding, Tanya nodded, but before Sasha could say anything she heard the pounding in the walls again.

This time instead of being frightened she looked around, eyes darting along the walls.

Sasha smiled, "Even the finest of homes cannot keep the mice and rodents at bay I'm afraid."

"Mice?" Tanya jumped at the sound of her own voice and trembled at the sound. What was wrong with her voice?

Sasha sighed softly. "Please, little one. If you give me a moment I will try to explain."

Tanya only whimpered, wanting to understand, wanting to listen, but it was like she was being bombarded by the sights, sounds, and smells around her, making it much too difficult to do so.

Sitting on the ground, her long skirts and petticoats billowing around her for a moment, Sasha sighed softly and gently folded her hands onto her lap. She wanted to hug and comfort the girl, but she also knew the danger in doing so.

"Please, child, try."

Tanya looked at her again and wondered how every time the woman moved she looked like she was a Botticelli painting come to life. It was easier when she just concentrated on the woman's beautiful voice and features.

Smiling at her kindly, Sasha asked, "Do you remember my name?"

Tanya nodded, but did not speak, afraid to hear her voice again.

"Good. Then you know I am Sasha." She looked around. "This is my home." Looking back at Tanya she smiled again. "You must have so many questions, but you only asked one. What is happening? That is what you want to know, is it not?"

Tanya nodded again, unconsciously scratching at her throat once again.

Sasha smiled at the movement. "What is happening is that you have been reborn, little one. I know that does not make sense now, but it will given time. I did not choose to bring into this life, the life I lead, the life your attacker led, but I am a firm believer in the idea that everything happens for a reason. Your attacker and I both noticed you and it was more than just your extraordinary beauty that caught our attention. Pardon the pun, but we noticed the fire within you."

Tanya winced at the words and Sasha couldn't help the soft giggle that bubbled up in her throat. "Perhaps it is too soon for such a pun."

Tanya couldn't help but to smile at the soft laughter. It was a beautiful, soothing sound that somehow made her feel, well, safe.

She listened carefully as Sasha continued, enraptured by the woman and her words. "Child, you are now a creature of beauty, a creature of legend…you are vampire."


	8. Chapter 8

**Irina**

_**Russia, Early 19**__**th**__** Century**_

She stifled a sigh as well as the urge to hit away the hand that was groping at her rear; instead she turned, smiled, winked at the offending ogre with the meaty fingers and made her way back to the area behind the bar, putting the empty tankards of ale on the counter. The barkeep started to fill them again without a word. The things were filthy, but it's not like anyone really cared. The barkeep didn't, the patrons didn't, and she certainly didn't either.

Right now her chief worry was which of the men was going to offer her the best amount of coin for a tumble up in the small room she rented from the tavern owner. Sometimes, when she didn't have enough to pay the rent he accepted a night between the sheets as compensation. She truly hoped that wouldn't be the case this month. His sweaty, large body against hers really did nothing for her, and pretending to enjoy his advances nauseated her at times.

Pretending to enjoy _all_ their advances was wearing thin on her. This wasn't the life she had planned for herself.

When she ran off with the handsome boy that her father had taken in to help with the chores she'd expected things to be much different. Instead, she'd woken up alone in the room where she'd given him her virginity with no way to repay the innkeeper.

She'd been a fool.

She knew that there was no going back home and she'd tried everything she could to survive. She'd sold her long, golden locks of hair to a wig maker, but that money had only been enough to pay for the room and a meal. It was then that the innkeeper, behind his wife's back, had suggested a solution.

He had let her stay a few more nights, but he had visited her every night in her room after the laudanum that his wife was addicted to took effect.

Strangely enough, she remembered him as being a good lover. He was much more experienced in the art of pleasure than the boy she had run away with and he elicited responses from her that she had never imagined. It was in his arms that she realized that there could actually be pleasure in the act.

Then his wife had become suspicious as the other tenants at the inn began whispering and so she'd been set out with no money and nothing of value…except her body and her wits.

She'd used both to get a position at the tavern not far from the inn. It wasn't the type of establishment she'd ever dreamed of going into, much less working in, but she noticed how the workers from the nearby mine always seemed to flock there with their pockets full on payday and leave with their pockets empty later in the evening.

If that was where the money was, she wanted, no _needed_ a cut.

She'd entered the tavern and without a word she'd started talking up the patrons. None of them had given it a second thought when she'd retrieved their empty tankards of ale and dirty, grimy glasses that they were served vodka in and had offered to get their refills for them at the bar.

The barkeep had certainly noticed though. He'd grabbed her roughly when she'd gotten to the counter and she'd gasped as she'd felt his large hand digging into her forearm.

As he spoke his rough, deep voice made her heart pound in fear even as his putrid breath made her slightly dizzy. "What ya doing? Who are ya? What you want?"

She'd taken a moment to answer, but when she did, she gave him a smile and let her clear blue eyes meet his beady black ones. "Come now, just helping."

He'd frowned and shook her a bit, setting her teeth rattling. "Who says I needed any help?"

She'd only smiled and reached up to adjust the laces to her dress, causing the barkeep's eyes to drift down to the pale mounds of her breasts peeking above the square neckline. "Way I see it this is an arrangement that could benefit both of us. The patrons won't be waiting to get up and their own drinks which means that they'll be drinking more and spending more."

His brows drew together as his mind slowly tried to work this out, the man was obviously not a thinker. Finally after he seemed to realize that what she said was true he had scowled at her. "I can't pay you."

She'd responded with an impish grin. "I'll work for what I can get from the men…and a place to stay."

He'd half chuckled, half-sneered at her words, "And, I have an idea of what you'll be doing to get coins from the men." He'd looked her up and down, as if he could see through the coarse cloth that made up her dress.

"Yes, I'll expect that you'll do quite nicely. Should grow out your hair though. Chop it off because ya had to sell it or because ya had lice." He didn't wait for her to answer. "No matter. Get on with ya then. We'll be finalizing the arrangements later. I'll be getting good work out of ya," he leered at her again, "one way or another."

She'd stifled a shudder at that and had hoped that she'd never had to find out, though she doubted she could avoid it.

As the barkeep finished filling the tankards she'd brought over to him he'd interrupted her brooding with a pinch to her rear. "Not tonight, Olaf, I'll have your rent for you in the morning one way or another."

She returned the scowl he gave her with a smile and she'd taken the tankards of ale and moved to deliver them to the table she'd retrieved them from.

From the look of things she'd end up with Aleksei in her bed tonight. He was holding back on the drinks and saving his coins and she knew what that meant. It was almost a relief. At least Aleksei, a regular visitor to her room, did his best to please her when they were together. There was a lot of passion between them and she actually enjoyed her evening with him unlike with some of the others.

He was even somewhat handsome and sweet. Yes, a night with Aleksei wouldn't be too bad at all. She was actually looking forward to it when he'd whispered in her ear that he'd like to stay. It made her smile somewhat genuine.


	9. Chapter 9

One hand was pressed into the straw stuffed mattress and the other was braced against the wall as she let out a moan of pleasure as she felt Aleksei moving behind her. She pressed back against him and looked at him over her shoulder.

As he thrust into her she could tell he was lost in pleasure by the expression on his face. The shadows that came through her small window played across his features made him even handsomer.

When he saw her looking at him he smiled at her and stopped his movements and helped her to turn over so she was on her back again. As he settled himself over her he watched her with that same smile and touched her face gently with fingers callused from hard work.

He was the only one that bothered to treat her gently and smile at her. In fact, he was the only customer she _liked_ spending time with, which said a lot for Aleksei.

Overall, she was not enjoying her time as the village whore, but she did what she had to. The tavern was her home now. In truth, the tavern was really the heart of the village, which really said something about the population of the village as a whole.

Irina had stood out there like a sore thumb from the moment she arrived. Once she had taken the inn keeper into her bed and continued on to take the tavern's patrons between her legs as well, the men were happier than they had been in a while.

Olaf, the tavern keeper was more than happy with the arrangement. In addition to having Irina ride him in her small room some evenings the stupid girl didn't know that he was making a hefty profit off the men she took up to her room as well. Sure they gave her some coin, but when they headed back down they knew they were expected to pay him as well. So, in the end, Irina was paying him with her body by bedding him _and_ his patrons, all this on top of her paying him rent. Oh yes, he was lucky that she had come to join them.

The men felt that they were lucky as well. None could remember ever lying with a woman as beautiful as Irina. Oh, they had dreamed of it of course, dreams of a woman with sunlight for hair, beautiful blue eyes the color of the sky on a clear day, pale skin, long slender limbs that clung to them, and a soft voice that moaned in their ears. She was a dream come true and they spoke of her freely at the tavern or when away from it.

And word of the village's tavern wench did spread far and wide.

Just like Aleksei was spreading her legs in her small bed.

After a while she let out a cry of release and then he gave into his own mindless pleasure and collapsed on top of her, panting against her neck as he tried to catch his breath.

Holding him she wondered if he would stay the night or make his way back to the hovel he shared with several other miners. In a way she wished he would stay. When he did, she almost felt, well, normal. When he slept next to her, holding her close and keeping her warm, she pretended that he was her husband rather than a customer, and that the sounds coming up through the floorboards from the first floor were those of their children being restless in the night rather than the sounds of drunks who had been left to sleep it off at the same tables where they had passed out.

It was on the tip of her tongue to ask him to stay so she could envelop herself in that delusion once again, but she knew better then to do so. The night she asked him to stay, or asked any patron to stay for that matter, was the night that she couldn't ask for coin in exchange for her services. When that happened it would mean she was no longer a whore because she must be, but then she would be marked as a whore who slept with men for something more than survival.

She frowned at this thought as she looked up at the ceiling. This was not the life that she had imagined. No, she did not like being the village whore. It wasn't that she didn't like the act itself. She was beginning to realize that her body found pleasure with even some of the more loathsome characters she took into her bed, such as Olaf, but still, she wished that she had a family of her own. She couldn't be a whore forever. There would be a point when nobody would want her. Everyone lost their beauty at some point…everyone.

Aleksei was already falling asleep lying half on her, his limbs growing heavy and his breath growing steady as he gave himself over to sleep. She ran her hand absently up along the back of his arm as she continued to lie there thoughtfully.

Of course he was tired. It was a wonder that the miners found any energy to bed her at all with how hard they were worked. Turning to look at him as he slept she couldn't help but smile at the streaks of black she saw along his jaw line. Apparently he had been in a hurry to wash and had missed some spots.

Running her finger along one of these trails of sot she watched as he grumbled in his sleep. Trying not to disturb him further, she pulled her hand away and snuggled close to him and closed her eyes, trying to find her own tenuous peace that would fade with the coming of dawn when a new day would start.

Perhaps Aleksei or some other kind man would come along and make a life with her. She could dream about it, but she could also plan in case it didn't happen, but the planning could wait till tomorrow.


	10. Chapter 10

The winter weather that set upon the village that year was particularly harsh. In addition to the usual illnesses that came with the cold, damp weather and closed quarters that people kept in search of warmth, famine was affecting them all. The miners were starving and it wasn't unusual for the men to accuse each other of hording or to see them eyeing the rats that roamed in shadowed corners as a ready meal rather than a rodent. More than once or twice she swore that she saw rats' tails being thrown out by Olaf with the rest of the rubbish.

As is the case throughout most of human history, when there was disease, famine, and suffering in general, the human mind and spirit was susceptible to corruption. Usually this corruption took one of two forms: debase criminal, immoral behavior or fanatical religious righteousness. Both of them were equally dangerous. Unfortunately for Irina, the latter took hold in her village rather than the former.

A monk had made himself into town and had come into the tavern when it was full. He had not ordered alcohol like the others and instead asked for any scraps that they might have. Olaf was ready to toss the old man out on his ear, but Irina, in a misguided sense of pity, had given him what he asked for and pleaded his case to her employer.

Rather than be grateful for the kind treatment he had received at her hands, the monk scrutinized her more closely than he did the others. Watching as she laughed and flirted with the men as she served them and as she took some up to her room.

This went on for several nights and soon the crowd that gathered around the monk's table began to grow. People were seeking a relief to their misery, and for some reason they believed that this old withered man with his fanatical views held the answers.

She noticed when she began to get less and less customers and that the men, even Aleksei, would not look her in the eye. When she began to feel their looks growing hostile she was almost grateful that she had to take Olaf into her bed in lieu of her usual payment; he kept her safe. Olaf didn't seem to be buying into the monk's views; actually, he was rather put off by the old man since he had convinced several of the tavern's patrons that fasting and sobriety were the answers to some of their problems.

After a while, the tavern, once a happy, lively place became a place of shadows and whispers, and she began to miss the way it had been: the easy conversation and laughs with men she considered her friends. She even missed their company in her room. Even Olaf was growing weary of her. Sure he liked bedding her, but he wasn't so dim witted that he didn't notice that the tides were turning against her and if he continued to keep company with her, he was likely to be dragged down with her.

Every night she heard the whispers. She knew what they were saying. She was a filthy whore. She was evil.

Did they not even see that they were the ones that had put her in the position where she had to become a whore?

Of course they didn't. Men had always blamed women, just as they blamed Eve for the downfall of men. The sad part about it all was that she still cared for them. She still saw them as her friends. She began to hope that with the end of the winter and with a bountiful crop in the next season that they would forget the monk, be happy again, and things would be back to normal.

It was wishful thinking on her part.

One morning while standing in front of her mirror in her shift, combing her fingers through her hair which now was only an inch or two above her shoulders, she heard a commotion downstairs. As she went to the door to peek out she was suddenly thrown back onto the floor as it was shoved open roughly.

Staring up in surprise she whispered in fear, "Aleksei?"

This was not the men that she had bedded here in this very room before. No, this was a completely different man with a demented look in his eyes, his frame so gaunt that he was almost skeletal. The sneer on his face as he reached out and dragged her to her feet by her hair was one she had never seen before.

She tried grabbing at his wrist, but it was almost as if he was possessed as he dragged her out of her room, screaming, "I have the whore!" It was then she realized that he was not alone as she was thrust into a sea of unwashed bodies that tore at her hair and clothes, their dirty, ragged nails digging into her flesh, leaving welts and scratches.

At first she was too shocked to do much then be carried by the tidal wave of anger, but then she started to struggle, knowing that her very life depended on it. She screamed and cried out for help from the faces of the men she had once considered her friends, but there was nothing but angry growls and stares in response.

Someone hit her so hard across her face that she saw stars and would have fallen to the floor were it not for the hands that were holding her up. As they carried her off outside the tavern, the slaps and hits continued till she felt sure that there was not a single inch of her body uncovered by welts, cuts, and bruises.

Before she knew it she was tossed in a cold damp shed that was used to store grain, but now, due to the famine, it was empty.

A familiar voice that she couldn't place said that she should be tied up and she recognized as Aleksei said he would do it and that he would take the first watch. She heard something about a magistrate arriving in the next couple of days to deal with her.

As she lay there, feeling nothing but pain, the ropes were tied around her wrists and she felt Aleksei lie on top of her.

Aleksei had always been the patron that had made her feel special. Now she knew that she would never forget the words he said or the pain he inflicted on her as he took her one last time. He had shown her the pleasure and gentleness that could be experience in being with a man. This time he showed her how painful and disgusting an act it could truly be. No man ever treated her the way he did that night.

As different men took their shifts in the evening "watching" her, she barely noticed as they took turns raping her. Her mind was almost as numb as her body.

How long would this go on?


	11. Chapter 11

Throughout the next day, she was left alone for the most part. The rapes had stopped, but only because the monk had decided to hold a continuous, never-ending sermon outside the shed where she was being held.

The man really did love the sound of his own voice. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad to die, at least she wouldn't have to listen to him going on and on anymore.

Throughout the day she drifted in and out of consciousness, her body a heap of bruises and cuts. She was sure that she had a couple of broken ribs. In the back of her mind she had always known that all men, even the ones she considered friends, could be cruel, but not _this_ cruel.

As her mind slipped out of the real world and into the blessed realm of unconsciousness, she dreamed, dreamed of how things could have been. In her dreams, she had never run away from home. She continued to live the same hard life that she had lived before on her father's farm, but this time, she didn't mind so much. This time, she married the simple young man from the neighboring farm. True, he hadn't been handsome or particularly bright, but he had always smiled at her and gone out of his way to make her feel special. She married him and had grown to love him. They had had several children and had grown old and happy together.

But, of course, this was just a dream that would never come true. The reality of the matter was that she was a whore who was about to be burned alive, condemned as a witch.

Unfortunately, the magistrate did not arrive to put her on trial before the next evening set on the village again. She didn't even have the strength to do more than whimper as she realized that the sun was setting again. When it was night time and the monk retreated once more she would be at the mercy of the mob again. Perhaps she wouldn't burn at the stake after all. No, she was quite sure she couldn't survive another evening like the previous one.

Her eyes darted around the small shed which was becoming darker and darker with each passing moment. There was a deep seeded look of desperation in them as they sought out some sort of means of escape, but of course, there was none, and even if she had discovered some way out of the enclosure, she did not have the strength to crawl, much less run.

Tears spilled from the corners of her eyes and her fragile, beaten body shook as she cried, making it even harder for her to breath. The sound of men screaming outside the shed led her to believe that the men were drawing closer and, at that moment, her panic and fear were so great that she didn't realize that the screams of the men were not the same as they had been when they had been a mob attacking her. No, now they were screams of terror.

The screams actually grew closer and closer and she sobbed louder and louder, not really noticing how each man's scream would suddenly be cut off.

When the door to the shed was torn off its hinges she was in such a state of hysterics that she didn't realize that the figure in the door was not a man there to torment her, instead, it was a beautiful woman.

The woman with strawberry blond curls and unbelievably beautiful features leaned over her, her full lips forming a small "O" of astonishment.

Was she an angel? Irina wondered. Even with the blood dripping from the corner of her lips and the strange, blood-red color of her eyes she was the most beautiful creature that Irina had ever seen.

"My dear! What have these monsters done to you?!"

Before she could wonder more about the vision before her, she found herself being lifted up into the woman's arms. As her body was shifted about she let out a cry of pain, one of her broken ribs doing the damage it had been threatening to do ever since it had been broken the previous evening as it pierced through her lung, making it impossible to breath.

The woman's voice penetrated through the pain, but just barely.

"Oh! I have made it worse!" Her voice floated down to Irina as she was rushed through the night, the crisp winter air making it even harder to breathe.

She didn't know where they were going or even how long the woman ran through the night, holding her softly. As she slipped in and out of consciousness she kept hearing the woman telling her to hold on.

Hold on? It didn't make sense.

The darkness and cold wind swirled around them as the woman moved impossibly fast with her and it was hours later when she saw faint lights in the distance.

Were they running towards a church? Irina couldn't imagine it could be anything else, never having seen such a grand, big building in her short eighteen years.

As the woman ran into the house she started calling out in a frantic voice, "Mama! Mama! Help her!"


	12. Chapter 12

The fires of conversion had been hell for her. She had grown up in a household where she had been taught that God was good, kind, and forgiving; this made it hard for her to understand why she was being punished in such a manner. Yet, through the whole thing, both Sasha and Tanya had been with her. They had tried to comfort her by holding her and whispering soothing things to her even as she writhed and cried out in pain.

Learning to live the life of a vampire had been easier for Irina then learning to live as a noble woman. Her years of going without much to eat also prepared her in dealing with the constant hunger of a newborn. Her whole life she had led a poor, simple existence that had taught her to do what was necessary to survive. This made it easy for her to adapt to having to drink the blood of others. She felt no remorse when she held men against her, crushing them in her embrace as she greedily sucked their lives away.

What was harder for her was getting used to the silk and satin gowns, covered in semi-precious jewels and lace. Sasha and Tanya never gave a thought to the costly elaborate costumes they were, while Irina could sit for hours, staring at a diamond necklace that they had placed on her wrist, thinking that such a trinket could have fed her human family for years.

On one such occasion she sat looking at a large emerald ring that Sasha had placed on her finger when Tanya's voice broke gently into her thoughts. "It's beautiful, isn't it?" Looking up from her hand, Irina couldn't help but smile. She already had come to love both Tanya and Sasha as family. Tanya made her laugh and smile in a way that her human sisters never had, but then her life now was much different than it had been then. Being the oldest of ten children she had been treated more like a third parent than a sibling.

Remembering Tanya's question she nodded and glanced to the ring again, a sad look once again returning to her features. "It is lovely." The green facets of the emerald were covered by Tanya's hand though. "But, it is not you," Tanya replied softly. Irina looked up at Tanya for a moment then shook her head.

Tanya continued to smile kindly and patted her hand. "I will talk to mama about getting you some more simple things to wear." Irina shook her head and frowned as she replied, "No, I do not want to seem ungrateful. You and mama have done so much for me already…"

Tanya waved her hand in the air in her typical, arrogant fashion, "Nonsense! Simple classic gowns would suit your frame and features better anyway! None of us really need any of these baubles and yards of lace and ribbon. The difference is that mama and I like to play dress up." She chuckled and kissed her cheek as she hugged Irina. "Do not worry little sister. Things will become easier. I know that this is all very different for you."

Things did become easier after that. Eventually the bloodlust faded enough that Irina learned to control her hunger and hunt more discriminately. The simple gowns that Sasha and Tanya ordered for her, while still made of silks and satins, were in more somber shades of grays and blues that suited her better, and she began to enjoy attending balls and receptions. But, her roots were still there, never far behind, and she was grateful that neither mama nor Tanya ever mentioned the fact that she tended to gravitate towards the servants at the parties or that she was more attracted to the footmen than to the nobility that they brushed elbows with at a constant basis. She was different than them and they accepted this without question. After all, she was still family.

Little over a year after her conversion she was at a ball with her mama, Tanya having decided to entertain herself for the evening elsewhere, when she drifted outside, wanting to escape the confines of the noble class with their frivolous behavior. Looking around she hoped to engage one of the footmen or groomsmen in conversation, as she had done countless times before. Unfortunately, most of them were occupied and she stood there alone in the cool night air for some time before she heard a soft, ragged voice behind her. "Pardon me, lady, but could I bother you for something to eat?"

The voice was familiar, tickling the hazy memories from her time as a human, and turning she saw i_him_/i. In that moment she felt a rush of emotions ranging from the longing she had felt to lead a normal, happy life with him, to the anger she had felt at the treatment she had received at his hands in her last human moment and she gasped, "Aleksei?"


	13. Chapter 13

Despite the fact that the memories of her human life were hazy and that the man before her was a mere shadow of what he had been when she had known him, she knew that it was him right away. During the course of the last year of her human life he had been the embodiment of her hopes and her nightmares, but now it was apparent that life had gotten the best of him. True, he had been suffering the effects of the famine when she had last seen him, but it seemed that life had not gotten better for him afterwards judging by his torn clothing, grey stubble, and thin frame.

But, his blue eyes were the same.

At first those blue eyes seemed confused when she had said his name, but it wasn't long before confusion turned to shock and then fear as he seemed to recognize her. Stumbling backwards he tried to get away, but she was too quick for him, and before he even had the chance to turn, she was standing before him, helping to steady him on his feet.

"There is no need to run, Aleksei." Her voice only seemed to frighten him more and he fell to his knees before her, blubbering like a fool, clutching at her skirts and petticoats. She couldn't understand what he was trying to say, most of it incoherent, but she did catch the words "forgiveness" and "punishment" during the course of his ramblings.

By now, some of the coachmen and footmen had heard the commotion and had come running. They kindly offered to remove Aleksei's offending figure from her presence, but she shook her head, thanking them and telling them that she could take care of it. They looked doubtful, but let her be and she leaned down to help Aleksei stand. "Please, stop. Stand up," her voice was soft, kind.

Although he flinched at her touch, he did not pull away and looking at her he asked, his voice practically a sob. "How?"

Now there was a question that she couldn't answer. Glancing over her shoulder she saw that the servants that had come to her assistance weren't too far off and she sighed and started to lead Aleksei off. "Come," she said.

As they walked around the mansion, the strains of music from the orchestra reaching them outside, she frowned a bit. What was she to do with him now? Her sister and mama would not be happy to have her cover blown. She knew that they did not care if she had been nothing more than a poor peasant in her past life, but with the lives they led it was important to keep up appearances. But, looking at Aleksei she wasn't sure that anyone would believe what he had to say even if he did speak out.

Walking along with the man who was still weeping by her side, she wondered why she wasn't angry, though she knew that she probably should be. Instead she felt pity for the man. Perhaps it stemmed from the fact that he was one of the few people that had shown her true kindness during her mortal life.

Leading him to the stables she pondered again at the injustices of life. The horses here were treated better than peasants such as Aleksei were. Finding an empty stall for him she whispered, "Sit and rest. I will find you something to eat."

With her sensitive nose it wasn't hard to find a small stash of food in the master groomsman's quarters and she brought him the simple loaf of bread, wedge of cheese, and container of ale that she had found. Paying no mind to the pale blue satin gown she wore trimmed in royal blue ribbons she sat on the clean hay across from him and watched as he devoured the meager meal, his eyes never leaving hers as he ate.

After he had consumed more than half the food he asked hoarsely, his emotions still straining his voice, "Are, you a ghost then come to haunt me for my sins?"

She smiled at that and shook her head. "No. I'm still me…just different."

His brows drew together in confusion and he continued to eat in silence. As she watched him she felt that old yearning within her that she had always felt in his presence before the famine and she pondered what life would have been like if she had been led on a different path, a path where she would have become his wife and had a family with him.

Feeling her eyes on him, he watched her warily and when he finished his meal he wiped his mouth with the back of his arm. He had been out of the village the night that the carnage had occurred. He had returned, expecting to take another turn "watching" her, when he had encountered the bodies of his dead friends and comrades strewn about. He had no idea what had happened and had run, assuming that she was among the dead.

How was it that she had survived?

She sat there wondering the same thing.

Tanya had told her that she had killed all the men present when she had discovered Irina, but obviously Aleksei had not been among the dead. In a way she was grateful. It was nice to have some connection to the few pleasant memories she had in her human life, and wondering if she could feel the same things again, she unexpected leaned towards him and brushed her cold, hard lips against his.

Aleksei had been surprised by the gesture, but he kissed her back, his mind not immediately registering the differences in the softness and temperature of her flesh.

The straw crunched underneath them as she pulled him down onto the ground with her, so he was lying on top of her, and it wasn't long before his hands were fumbling with the fabric of her skirts, seeking out the bare skin beneath her petticoats. He hissed at the coldness of her flesh, but still, he was thinking of finding pleasure instead of processing that something might be wrong. It had been a very long time since he had been with a woman. In fact, the last woman he had been with had been Irina when he had forcefully taken her.

And, despite Tanya's propensity for bedding some of the men that she encountered, Irina had refrained from doing so, still scared by the memory of the same forceful joining and the ones that had followed.

He was ready for her.

She thought she was ready for him, but she was not.

As he sheathed himself inside her, the hazy human memories of her rapes flooded her mind and she let out a cry of fear. He misinterpreted it as a sign of pleasure and started to thrust into her, hard and fast, groaning in her ear.

As a human his acts might have bruised her, now they were like nothing. And, she lay there for a moment, unmoving as her fear turned to anger.

Before she could think her arms and legs wrapped around him like a vise and her teeth sank into the flesh of his neck. Now his moans were cries of pain while hers were sounds of pleasure.


	14. Chapter 14

**Katarina (Kate)**

_**Moscow, Russia, 1812**_

Throughout the summer, her father and brother had spoken of nothing but Napoleon's invasion of Russia while she sat nearby, knitting a scarf for her brother to take on his next journey. As merchants they were constantly traveling, which made them privy to all sorts of information, information that they doubted that she would be interested in.

Despite what they assumed to be her lack of interest, she listened. She listened intently because although her fiancé, Mikhail, was stationed in the city, she had no doubt that if things continued along this course that he would be sent off to fight. It was a thought that did not sit well with her.

Already they had had to push back their wedding date because of his military duties and though she understood, she could not wait to become Mikhail's wife, and neither could her father and brother. It was rare that nobility married outside of their social stations, but Mikhail had fallen in love with her and when she had gotten over her broken heart from a previous relationship, she had grown to love him as well.

Now she looked forward to his company, whether they were the supervised visits under the watchful eyes of her father, brother, or the housekeeper, Raya, or meetings in her room at night when he snuck in to spend the evening with her.

Her father and brother would be shocked if they ever knew that she welcomed Mikhail into her bed. They would be even more shocked if they knew that Mikhail was not the first man that she had lain with. No, she had given up her maidenhead several years before to a handsome young friend of her brother's, a young man from a fellow merchant family named Nikolai. She had loved him with all her heart and whenever he took her in his arms and made love to her, she had no thoughts of sin or doing the wrong thing. She knew that they were meant to be. They had secretly become engaged before he went on a trading trip for his family, one that he said would set up his personal fortune so they would be able to marry and live comfortably.

He had never come home and it had been several months before his family received words that he had succumbed to illness in some small city where his family did business.

Her family never understood her reluctance to take on suitors since she never shared the truth about her relationship with Nikolai. So they had little hopes when Mikhail began to show interest, but then he had pursued her relentlessly, and after a time, she found herself smiling in his presence and finding a bit of joy in her life once again.

She was brought out of her thoughts of Nikolai and Mikhail by her father's voice. "The hour has grown late. Perhaps we should retire."

Nodding, she put her knitting away and gave her brother a kiss on the cheek when he helped her up from her seat and then she went up to kiss her father's forehead before she made her way out of the sitting room. Glancing at the ornate grandfather clock at the base of the stairs she blinked a bit and hurried her steps; she hadn't realized how late the hour had grown and she knew that Mikhail would be sneaking in soon…if he hadn't already.

Lifting up her skirts she made her way up the stairs and entering her room she smiled. He was already there, standing before the fire, warming his hands. As the door clicked closed behind her he looked up, his blue eyes dancing in the firelight, and he gave her a rakish grin as he brushed some loose locks of black hair from his forehead. His voice was teasing as he spoke, "You're late. I almost broke my neck falling out of the tree while trying to get the window open."

She leaned back against the door and smiled. "And, what would you have done if the window had been locked?"

He grinned and waggled his brows. "I would have seduced Raya into letting me in."

She couldn't help but chuckle at his words since their housekeeper was a round, squat, rather grumpy looking old woman who's face seemed stuck in a permanent scowl. Rushing towards him, she threw her arms around him, and giggled softly. "I knew that you had a crush on her, Misha!" His strong arms tightened around her as he heard her nickname for him and he whispered, "I cannot keep away from you for long, dearest. You are my very soul."

Lifting her face away from the crook of his neck she smiled at him and kissed him gently. It wasn't long before the kiss turned more passionate as he lead her to the bed, both their hands fumbling at the fastenings to their clothing.

As he made love to her, her body trembling and moving with his, their soft sounds filled the shadowy room and in the back of her mind she was grateful that her brother and father's rooms were at the other end of the house.

Mikhail had never been bothered by the fact that she had given herself to another before him. He loved her and that was the end of the matter. She also had no regrets. She loved Misha, and while she felt that he was not as skillful in bed as Nicolai had been, she couldn't deny that she found pleasure in his arms.

That much was obvious as she clung to him as his cock moved in and out of her depths and she panted in his ear, moaning, whimpering, and finally crying out as she let her climax overtake her. Usually when they coupled, he would come soon after she did, cuddle for a while before making his way out into the night, but tonight he lingered over her, holding back on his own climax in order to elongate her pleasure. And, while she enjoyed every moment, afterwards she knew that something was wrong.

Spooning her from behind he whispered softly in her ear, "You and your family must leave the city." She stiffened in his arms and turned to look at him over her shoulder. "The French?" He nodded and kissing her softly he whispered, "Do not worry. I will speak to your father tomorrow. I will see to it that you are all safe." He brushed her fair hair away from her face and she felt her own pulse racing at the look in his eyes. In their blue depths she saw something she had never seen before, pure, unadulterated fear. His next words made it feel as if death itself had reached out to squeeze her already racing heart, turning her blood to ice water.

"We are abandoning the city. Moscow will be theirs."


	15. Chapter 15

After making love to her once more before leaving via the tree outside her window, Katarina had been left to her own thoughts and of course it was impossible to sleep. Despite her father and brother's shielding her from the situation in their country, she was well aware of the political situation due to her clandestine conversations with Mikhail. Slipping her nightgown on once again, she looked at the picture above the fireplace which was still cheerfully illuminated by the fire still burning in the hearth.

It was a painting of her mother. She barely remembered the beautiful woman with rich brown hair and sparkling blue eyes. Her mother had died when she was only four and the few memories of her that she had were from when she had been confined to bed, wasting away with consumption. Her most vivid memory of her was when she had been taken to her mother to say goodbye. She remembered her mother holding her close, speaking breathlessly. It had always sounded as if she couldn't get enough air in her lungs. "I love you so. Be a strong girl, my little Katia." Only her mother had ever called her that. Her father had added, his own voice hoarse with tears, "Yes, you must be a good girl for your mama, Katarina." Her mother had scowled, "And, why does she have to be good? She should live life without any boundaries!" After that her mother had gone into a coughing fit so she had been taken from the room. She hadn't seen her mother alive again.

The next day, Mikhail came to their home before breakfast had even been set out and he had spoken to her father and brother. Her father had been reluctant to leave the city, even after Mikhail had spoken to him of the urgency of the situation. It wasn't that he was didn't believe what Mikhail was telling him — although it was astonishing to think that they were abandoning Moscow, the spiritual capital of Russia — his reluctance stemmed from the fact that everything that they owned was here — their family home, their main offices, their warehouses, their very livelihood! Katarina's father had no doubt that their warehouses and home would be looted and they would be left with nothing. It took him some time to listen to reason, and in the end it was only her brother's insistence that it wasn't safe and Mikhail's assurance that he would see the family back on their feet after the war that swayed her father's mind.

Mikhail assured her that he would see them safely away before he left with his unit and then left her with a chaste kiss to the cheek. While they left to salvage what they could from the business offices she and Raya took care of things at home. Anything of any worth that could be easily transported was packed away along with foodstuff. There was no time to be frivolous so the only personal effects she took with her was her mother's portrait and a small book of love poems that Nikolai had given her.

By the time her father and brother returned with the wagon with the false bottom that the business sometimes used to transport costly cargo, she was dressed in the simple grey wool gown that she used when the streets were muddy and she had laid out simple clothes for her father and brother. She knew that they couldn't appear to be wealthy out on the open road where they could be accosted by anyone. If they hadn't been such urgency in the situation her father and brother might have been astonished with how well she was handling the situation.

Even as she helped Raya to pack their candlesticks holders, silverware, and jewelry away where it wouldn't be found under the false bottom to the wagon, she kept her eyes out for her Misha. She had no doubts that he would come, he had said he would. By the time she and the housekeeper were through packing her father and brother had come out and started to put the heavier boxes of food and supplies onto the wagon.

Her father looked at her simple clothes and cloak approvingly as he helped her and Raya up into the wagon bed before he went to sit next to her brother who was already at the front with the reigns in hand. Even as her brother made a clicking sound with his tongue against his teeth and snapped on the reigns, she continued to look out for Mikhail.

Up until this point she had remained calm, but as they started to pull away from her home she started to feel a rising sense of panic. Where was he? How would they find each other again?

Right when the fear and alarm started to bubble up in her chest, threatening to turn into a sob she heard horse's hooves in the distance and then saw Mikhail racing towards them crying out, "Katarina!". She cried out then, "Stop!" Her brother hadn't even had a chance to pull at the reigns before she leapt off the back of the wagon, hiked up her skirts, and ran towards Mikhail who had already dismounted and was rushing towards her.

He snatched her up in his arms and — propriety be damned —he kissed her long and passionately as he lifted her up against him. As their mouths met each other hungrily she didn't care about the fact that her family was watching. She was lost in the taste of him as his tongue moved urgently against her own, both of them holding each other so tightly that it was as if they wanted to devour each other, to become one.

It was finally the lack of oxygen that made them break the kiss and he held her close and whispered breathlessly in her ear, his voice hoarse with the tears he was holding back. "I thought…I thought I had missed you." She buried her face against his neck and whispered, "You will never lose me, my Misha."

He nodded and finally put her down, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed back tears. She didn't hold back and was openly crying. Looking at her he whispered, "I will find you. Your father told me where you are going and I will find you when this is all done." She could only nod, afraid that if she spoke, she would ask him to abandon the army and come with her. She couldn't do that to him. Reaching into his pocket he took out a small satin pouch and whispered, "Inside are my mother's pearls and her and my father's wedding rings. Keep them safe for me? They are for our wedding day." She nodded and clutched the pouch in her tiny hands which were shaking with emotion.

Misinterpreting why his hands were shaking, he whispered, "You are cold. That wool coat will do nothing to keep you warm." He removed the fur-lined coat that was part of his uniform and he wrapped it around her. When she opened her lips to protest, he put his finger on her lips to stop her. "I have another." She knew that the coat didn't fit in with the image that she and her family were trying to portray, but it was warm and smelled just like him.

He leaned down and gave her one last gentle, loving kiss before whispering against her lips. "I love you. I will find you."

She nodded and said nothing as he turned, ran back to his horse and raced away again.


	16. Chapter 16

Their journey was a far from easy one. At first they had battled other refugees for space on the crowded roads leading away from the city. And, though she was feeling miserable and frightened at being separated from Mikhail, she observed the other groups on the road.

With the exception of Mikhail and a few others of noble birth, the members of the merchant class such as her family were treated with a bit of a disdain by those with titles. Somehow money was better if it had been passed down rather than earned. All the populous of Moscow, from the lowliest street urchin to the richest families with the oldest of titles were fleeing the city now, and she couldn't help but shake her head as she noticed the lords and ladies in their fine carriages.

Unfortunately, those grand carriages were never meant for long, hard journeys and more than once she saw masters standing side by side with their servants, trying to push these grand, ostentatious conveyances out of the muddy snow or try to figure out what to do when a carriage wheel broke. As she watched these people struggle, she wondered what was to become of them.

While her family might not have the right social lineage, they had been smart in their escape and had dressed and traveled in a manner that didn't draw much attention. They were even headed in a direction different from the majority of Moscow's refugees, heading to her father's hunting lodge where they hoped to avoid any encounters with French forces. She trusted her father when he said that they would be safe there, hidden away from the rest of the world until a time when it would be safe to return home.

As the crowds of weary travelers began to thin and they found themselves on the road alone she let her mind wander to thoughts of Mikhail, praying that God would keep him safe and send him to her when the conflict was done. She daydreamed about the life that they would have together, and while most young women would have let their thoughts wander to the grand home they would live in and the balls they would attend, she imagined the children that they would have. She daydreamed about growing old with him and watching their grandchildren play.

The sounds of her father and brother talking penetrated her thoughts and she let her daydreams fade as she listened to what they were saying.

"Of course he will come for her, papa. Did you not see their goodbye? Mikhail loves Katarina."

It was then that she realized they had been talking about her the whole time. Since she had been lying there next to Raya with her eyes closed they figured that she had been sleeping, and she wasn't about to change that assumption, too interested in what they had to say to let them know otherwise.

Her father coughed a bit before answering, "Of course he loves her, but that is not the issue here. This war has come to a point that many of us never thought to see. We have had to flee Moscow for the love of God! There is no guarantee that he will survive this conflict." He sighed and then added with a soft whisper, "We may not even survive."

"What do you mean, papa?" Her brother sounded worried.

"There is no telling how long this war will go on. We both know that the signs show that this will be an especially cold, harsh winter. While we have brought as many supplies as we can and we can hunt for game, what if that is not enough in the end? What then? True, it might be easier to stay within the confines of some small town than the cabin, but what of your sister? We cannot risk exposing her to those French brutes! You know as well as I do what they are capable of. We just have to pray that the cabin will be out of the way enough that we will not be found."

"Do not worry, we will be fine," her brother responded, but even she could hear the doubt in his voice.

As she continued to pretend to sleep, she mulled on her brother and father's words. What would become of them if this war went on for some time? Would they be able to survive at her father's hunting lodge for an extended period? Was she holding her family back with her presence? Life would be easier for them if they were in some small town, but it would leave them all more exposed and vulnerable. And, what about what they had said about her Misha? What if something did happen to him during the course of the war?

No. No, she couldn't think that way. He would be fine. He had to be. At that moment she prayed for him to be safe, no matter what the cost. That was all she wanted.

Curling up further into Mikhail's large coat, she clutched the satin bag he'd given her in her tiny hands. One day, this war would be over and they would be free to marry. She would wear his mother's pearls and they would exchange his parents' rings. And, with that image of their perfect wedding day, she drifted off to sleep.

It was sometime later that she finally woke up. It was night time and the carriage had stopped moving. Feeling disoriented she raised her head and peeked above the edge of the wagon. A short distance away her father and brother were sitting, talking quietly while Raya cooked up something over the open flames of a campfire.

Sitting up she stretched and yawned, stifling a moan as her body ached from being curled up on such a cold, hard surface for so long. Slipping off the wagon she shook out the long skirts of her dress and adjusted Mikhail's cloak. She tried smoothing out some of the wrinkles, but it was a futile act.

Making her way to the campfire, she smiled at her family. She knew from their looks that they were worried about her. To them she was a delicate creature that needed to be coddled and protected. They had no idea what she was truly capable of.

"Are you all right, Katarina?" Her brother asked. "I know that the journey has been difficult, but…"

Reaching out she placed a soothing hand on his arm. "I am fine. Do not worry yourselves over me."

She would prove that she could handle anything that came their way.


	17. Chapter 17

That winter was a far from easy one. Russian winters were notoriously difficult, and though her father's hunting lodge had been designed to protect its inhabitants from the harsh weather, it had never been meant for extended stays.

The close quarters meant that when Raya got sick with some sort of bad cough and cold, they all got sick, but her father was affected most of all and Katarina spent most of her time caring for him and Raya while her brother tried to hunt for game.

Her whole life she had been treated as her father and brother thought a lady should be and they had tried to protect her from the harsher aspects of life, but when her father did not get better and Raya succumbed to her illness, she was the only one available to help her brother dig a makeshift grave in the frozen ground for the old woman who had been a surrogate mother to them both for so long.

After their old housekeeper's death, her brother had helped her with caring for their father and with preparing their meals, but she still had much of the brunt of the work since he spent so much time off hunting for food.

One evening when their father lay nearby in a restless, feverish sleep, they both sat in front of the fire. She was working on mending some tears in some of her brother's clothes and he sat watching her for a while before he finally spoke.

"I am so proud of you, Katarina."

She had looked up in surprise and tilting her head she replied, "Proud of me?"

He nodded. "Yes, and I owe you an apology." When she started to open her mouth to protest he had held up a hand to stop her. "Let me finish. I know that father and I have treated you like a girl who cannot handle anything more complex than a needle and embroidery hoop, but you are really a young woman who is stronger than either of us ever was. I am proud to call you my sister."

She had only blushed at his words, not knowing how to respond, but a response was not necessary as he continued, "Life for us will never be the same after this and things will get harder than they even are now, but if anyone comes out of this stronger and better it will be you, Katia." He smiled at the old pet name that their mother used to call her. "Katia. I remember when mother used to call you that. You were such a tiny pretty little thing and the name suited you then, but you are a young woman now. Katarina is lovely, but much too formal." He looked at her for a moment, remembering the name of an English woman he had once met on one of his business excursions. "Kate. Is it all right if I call you that? I think it suits you."

She nodded, confused by the sudden need to give her another pet name, but what she didn't realize was that her brother felt closer to her than he ever had and it was his way of bridging the gap that had formed between them over the years. What neither of them realized was that this new found bond between brother and sister wouldn't last long.

When their father did not get better and the weather began to get worse rather than better, her brother decided that he needed to make an excursion to find some sort of medicine as well as gather information about what was happening with the war.

When he left she had pressed Mikhail's coat on him, knowing that it was the warmest coat that they had brought with them, but he had refused. "No, Kate. It is yours and you need it. I will not be gone long." And, then he kissed her forehead and had gone.

She never saw him again.

He had warned her that his excursion would last two to three weeks, so she only began to worry when the fourth week of his absence came and went. By then, the rations that he had left for her and her father were almost completely gone, and her father was delirious with fever more often than not.

In the fifth week after her brother's departure her father died and she did her best to bury him, no easy feat considering that the ground was almost frozen solid and her father was a robust man. But, she had done her best and had dragged her father's body to a shallow grave, promising that she would give him a proper burial at a later date.

She did her best to hunt, and though she had had a brief lesson in how to shoot the rifle that her brother had left behind, she was not trained in how to find game, so for a couple of weeks she made do with the winter plants that she found or the animals she managed to capture in a makeshift trap she had come up with.

Two months after her brother left, she realized he was never coming back.

Gathering Mikhail's coat, the small satin pouch he had given her, and the jewelry that they had brought with them, she set off, knowing that if she stayed in the cabin it would mean certain death from starvation.


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: Yes, this is a short chapter, but I wanted to continue the story before I got even further behind! Please enjoy and please review!**

**~.~.~.~.~**

In all honesty, she had no idea where she was going or what she was going to do. She was a smart woman, but she had never truly been on her own and she understood that her family had been overprotective of her for a reason. The world was never kind to women of any class and she knew that people would seek to take advantage of her if she let them. It wasn't that she didn't believe that there were kind people in the world, but she knew that people were desperate due to the war.

She had wandered for two days, walking and eating the few provisions she had brought with her and plants she found along the way. She was always hungry and cold. She knew she was painfully thin by the way that her clothes hung loosely on her body and as she huddled in Mikhail's coat, the hem already in tatters from being dragged across the ground.

When she finally reached a small village she saw its small cottages as a heaven of sorts, but it quickly turned into a false paradise when she was turned away from each home, the inhabitants both weary of strangers or simply unwilling to share their meager resources.

It was at the last cottage that she came to that an old woman finally let her in. It was apparent that the old, withered woman had been trying to make it on her own, but there was very little firewood and the place was in a bit of disrepair. Yet, despite the old woman's sorry state, she willingly let Katarina into her home and fed her from her own paltry food store.

Katarina ate the bit of bread and stew hungrily and the old woman shuffled about, stoking the small fire and trying to make the tiny, one room cottage comfortable. "What is your name, child?" The woman asked in a withered voice.

"Katarina…Kate," she responded, not really knowing why she mentioned the nickname that her brother had recently given her, but the thought of him brought tears to her eyes.

The old woman noticed, but merely patted her shoulder. Times were hard on everyone and she knew that even the littlest thing could feel like a ton of grief had just been dropped on you. "My name is Anja. I am sorry I can offer you so little hospitality, but things have been difficult since my sons left to fight." She sat down across the old rickety table from Katarina, wincing as her bones creaked.

"Oh! No, ma'am. This is wonderful! Thank you so much for helping me," Katarina exclaimed in response.

They talked for a while, Katarina telling her about her family and about Mikhail. The old woman talked about her sons, Igor and Ivan, but she seemed to doze off mid-conversation, her wrinkled chin tucked against her chest.

Getting up quietly, Katarina cleaned up after herself and then went out to get some firewood for the woman, chopping it herself despite how weak she felt. At least the food she had in her stomach helped to give her a bit of strength and she felt she had to repay the old woman's kindness in whatever way that she could.

By the time that Anja woke up from her unexpected nap, the fire was big and cheerful and Katarina had cleaned up the place a bit. As Anja took in the scene, from the firewood stacked near the fireplace, to the scrubbed table and tidied up bed, she had tears in her eyes.

Katarina, exhausted from her journey as well as the work, was curled up on the floor in front of the fireplace, fast asleep. The old woman shuffled to the bed and took one of the tattered old quilts from there and laid it on the young girl's shoulders.

Anja had no idea what the future held for herself, this young woman, or the whole country for that matter, but for right now she knew that she and this girl that called herself by the English name Kate were meant to come together to help each other. She didn't know how long she would stay, but she was grateful and said a small prayer of thanks for the blessing that was now resting in front of the fireplace.


End file.
